The Reluctant Count and the Clever Daughter
by sparklyscorpion
Summary: A retelling of the fairy tale 'The Peasant's Wise Daughter' with a Phantom spin.  Characters include Erik, Christine, Raoul, Philippe, and Christine's father.


_Author's Note: The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux._

_This was written for a fic challenge on livejournal. My goal was to take one of Grimm's fairy tales and adapt it to fit The Phantom of the Opera. I chose "The Peasant's Wise Daughter" and I recommend reading it before you read this story, although it's not necessary to follow the story. I would post the fairy tale in the a/n, but it's rather big - so feel free to google it with the quotes, it will be the first thing to appear on the search results. _

_Many thanks to my betas Monj and Jennyfair._

* * *

Once upon a time there was an elderly count who lived with his two sons in the French countryside. Philippe, the elder of the two and the count's heir, was nearly twenty-one years old when his younger brother was born and he regarded Raoul as more of a son than a sibling. The old count and Philippe shamelessly spoiled the young boy, allowing him to play freely with the peasant children, and he formed a particularly strong attachment to a little girl named Christine. 

Christine, like Raoul, had lost her mother at an early age, and she now lived with her father on a tiny plot of land that barely allowed them to grow enough food to survive. In spite of the hardships she had faced in her short life, Christine was still a cheerful child and Raoul, who had always been rather shy and withdrawn in spite of the affection that had been lavished upon him since his birth, found himself infatuated with her. It was not uncommon to see the pair traipsing through the village begging for stories, neither giving any mind to the vast difference between their stations.

When Raoul was almost thirteen years old the count died and, as Philippe had not yet married, the boy became heir to the title should some harm befall his brother. It was at this point that Philippe's concern about the young man's close friendship with Christine grew, for he too had once been Raoul's age and knew that feelings could overwhelm common sense when it came to a pretty girl. He decided that it was time to gently reign in his brother's free spirit, and so one of Philippe's first acts as the new count was to grant a tract of land to Christine's father as far away from the village as possible. With temptation now out of the way, Philippe busied himself with his brother's education and, although he always had a great fondness for his childhood friend, Raoul submitted to Philippe's will for him.

The new count was a strict but fair ruler, and he earned a reputation for being generous to both the villagers and travelers passing through his lands. Several years after Philippe became the count, a group of gypsies sought shelter in the castle's walls one evening and he granted their request. When morning came it was discovered that the nomads were gone, as were several priceless heirlooms that had been in the family's possession for many generations. Philippe was infuriated by the vagabonds' betrayal and sent his armed men to apprehend them, but the thieves had seemingly disappeared into the surrounding countryside.

A week after the gypsies had fled from the village one of the cooks became ill and died within a day; soon the entire castle fell prey to the same malady, and when Raoul finally emerged from his fever-induced delirium he found that his beloved brother had died from the sickness along with half of the castle, and that he was now the count. Raoul was understandably devastated by his loss, so much so that it was rumored that he went slightly mad, and the once mild-mannered young man developed a fierce temper. He spent hours wandering the grounds alone, his anguish and isolation only fueling his rage, and his first action as the new count was to order that no hospitality be shown to any travelers upon pain of permanent banishment from de Chagny lands, and that anyone found to be in possession of the stolen heirlooms be put to death.

* * *

A few months after Raoul had become the new count, Christine's father returned to their small cottage after working in the fields all day with a golden cup in his pack. He had discovered the elaborately decorated goblet tucked inside a hollow log at the edge of the clearing, the glint of metal catching his eye, and the unmistakable crest carved into its side left no doubt that it belonged to the de Chagny family. The old man informed his daughter that he would start the day-long trip into the village the next morning so he could give it back to its rightful owner. 

Christine, however, begged her father not to leave, for although she remembered the dear friend of her youth, she had also heard the rumors that his brother's untimely death had turned him into a bitter man and she feared for her father's safety. Her father would not be swayed by her arguments and admonished her for protesting since the de Chagnys had always been kind to both of them in the past, and said that it was his duty to return the cup. He too recalled his daughter's childhood playmate – he had always been fond of the oddly shy boy who begged him to tell them stories – and he assured Christine that Raoul would certainly not mistake him for one of the thieves, and so in the morning he set out for the village with the cup in his pack and rations to last him three days.

When her father did not return on the third day Christine knew that something dreadful had happened to him, although she tried to reassure herself with any number of excuses for his delay. Perhaps Count Raoul had invited him to stay for a day or so in the castle to gather his strength, or perhaps he had met with an old acquaintance and lost track of the time. When her father did not come back on the sixth day, however, Christine could no longer dismiss her apprehension; her worries were confirmed when a breathless Pierre, the son of her neighbor, informed her that he had been in the village yesterday and had heard that her father had been imprisoned by the count, and that he had run the whole way home to tell her.

Christine immediately began preparing for her own journey to the village, and the next morning she left with only a few days' worth of supplies and a firm sense of determination. When she arrived in the village in the late afternoon she marched up to the castle doors and demanded that she be allowed to speak with the count. The guard immediately informed her that her wish was impossible, the count would see no one, but Christine crossed her arms and refused to leave until she had seen Raoul. The guard, who could have easily picked her up by her collar and tossed her from the doorway, decided instead to send for the captain of the guard, a middle-aged man who had grown up with Philippe and was now quite protective of the young count.

The captain listened to Christine's tale and stated at its conclusion that the count had seen no one since his brother's death and would not see her. Christine could hear a note of sadness when he spoke of Philippe's passing and she revealed to him that she had known Raoul as a boy, and she was certain that he would see her if he were aware that she was here. The captain took pity on her and requested that she wait inside the hallway while he spoke with the count on her behalf, but he did not ask for her name and only told Raoul that a woman wished to plead for her father's life. The young ruler rambled like a madman, agreeing to see the girl only if she came to him neither clothed nor naked, neither walking nor riding, and neither upon the road nor through the grass.

Christine left the castle disheartened and spent the whole night thinking about how she could gain an audience with Raoul, still sure that he would release her father if she could only speak with him personally. At dawn she wandered the streets of the village and noticed that a large rut filled with stagnant water ran through the middle of the road. Her mind quickly devised a way to meet Raoul's nonsensical requirements, and she spent the only money she possessed hiring a donkey from a villager and purchasing a faded flannel blanket from his wife. Borrowing their outhouse, she stripped and wrapped her body in the blanket so she was neither clothed nor naked, she tied herself to the donkey so that only her toe touched the ground so she was neither riding nor walking, and she had the donkey walk through the rut so they came neither by the road nor through the grass.

When she reached the castle the captain met her at the door, amazed by her cleverness and her ability to put shame aside on her father's behalf, and immediately invited her inside, stating that he would inform the count that she had met his stipulations. Within fifteen minutes she was standing before Raoul, shivering and clad only in the flannel blanket, and he immediately recognized her and was overcome with remorse, for he had not known that it was her father who had been imprisoned by the guardsmen and that she was the daughter who had come to plead for her father's life. He ordered that her father be released at once and be fed a hearty meal and that Christine be given proper clothing, with his deepest apologies. Both of them were invited to be his personal guests for as long as they wished to stay, and Raoul ordered that they were to be treated by all as if they were members of the de Chagny family.

Father and daughter wept when they were reunited, and they both accepted Raoul's sincere apology without bitterness, deciding to stay a few days with the young count so her father could rest and regain his strength. Christine and Raoul once again became the closest of friends, spending hours in the gardens and the village just as they had in their youth, and they grew to be quite inseparable. Christine and her father continued to postpone their departure, neither wishing to leave Raoul, and when within a few weeks the count asked Christine to marry him, she said yes without hesitation.

They were married with the blessings of Christine's father, and although Raoul assured the old man that he was more than welcome to stay with them, he insisted that newly wedded couples needed their privacy and he was content to return to his own small home, so long as he was invited to visit often. They were blissfully happy and everyone remarked that the new countess had done wonders for Raoul, who had almost returned to his former self. He was once again generous to the villagers and he even smiled, although the prohibitions about providing shelter to visitors were still in effect.

* * *

Several months after their marriage, Christine was returning from a visit to her father's cottage on an unbearably hot day. They were nearly back to the village when she asked the guards who accompanied her if they might stop to rest by the side of the road, and shortly afterwards one of them found a small creek. Christine begged for some privacy so she might wade in it, and although the guards seemed weary they obliged, carefully watching the road as the countess dipped her toes in the cool water. 

She noticed the entrance to what appeared to be a cave; her curiosity got the best of her and she crossed the creek to peer inside, only to find a man lived in the cave. He was dirty and wore a mask to cover his face, and when Christine asked him his name he said it was Erik. The man seemed fearful when he discovered that she was married to the count, but eventually he decided that she meant him no harm and told her that he had once been part of the troupe who had stolen from the de Chagnys, but when the group had left the village many of them had fallen ill and died. Erik, who had been imprisoned by the gypsies against his will and forced to be part of their sideshow, took the opportunity to escape and had spent the last months hiding in this very cave, scraping together a meager existence in the woods near the village.

Christine took pity upon him, for she saw his painfully thin limbs and remembered what it was like to not have enough food, and she swore that she would help him so long as he did not betray her, for her husband would be furious if he discovered that she was aiding one of the men he blamed for his brother's death. She returned to the castle and gathered food and supplies for the unfortunate man, and twice a week she convinced the guards to ride out to the creek so she could go wading, always instructing them to stay at the edge of the woods by the road so she could have her privacy.

Eventually one of the guardsmen came to believe that the countess was having an affair and meeting a lover by the creek and, hoping to win favor and perhaps a promotion from her husband, followed her into woods. He lost Christine's trail fairly quickly but found the masked man in the cave alone. The guard remembered him as being part of the gypsies and arrested him immediately. The man was sent to the prison where he said that he had received no help from anyone and that he had stolen all of the supplies, but after being tortured and beaten he wept and revealed with great regret that it had been the countess who had assisted him for almost a month. He was then released, for he had no stolen heirlooms in his possession, but warned that he should never enter de Chagny lands again if he valued his life.

When Raoul was informed of his wife's perceived treachery he was devastated, for he had trusted her completely and could not understand why she had betrayed him so. He called her on her deceit and she admitted to it, although she begged him to understand that she had meant no harm by her actions and had only been helping a man who was close to starving on his own. Raoul turned a deaf ear to her pleas, filled with rage at the gypsies who had stolen far more from him than mere heirlooms, and closeted himself in his chambers. He refused to see anyone, and did not emerge again for two days.

He did not have the heart to banish Christine from his lands as his own law had dictated, and so informed her that she would instead be sent back to her father in disgrace. She would leave all of her newly-acquired possessions here in the castle except for one – she could take one item back with her to her father's cottage, whatever was most dear and precious in her eyes. To his surprise she agreed to his demands without protest, only asking that they might spend one more dinner together so she would have fond memories of their parting, and he acquiesced.

Unbeknownst to Raoul, Christine ordered a powerful sleeping draught to be brought to her and, when her husband was not looking, she poured the entire contents of the vial into his drink. He soon fell fast asleep and she summoned a servant to carry the count to the carriage that would take her back to her father's cottage, and when they reached her former home quite late in the night Raoul was placed upon her own small bed. He slept until the next evening, and when he awoke he was alone in a strange place that he had never seen before, and though he called for his servants none of them came.

At last Christine appeared and knelt before the bed, and though Raoul would not admit it aloud he was very glad to see her. "My dear husband," she said as she took his hand in her own, "you told me that I might have the one thing that was dearest to my heart and there is nothing more precious to me than you are, so I have brought you back with me."

Tears formed in Raoul's eyes as he heard her words, and he clung to his wife's hand tightly. "Christine, I was foolish and sent you away because of my pride. Let us never be parted again, except by death." And so the young couple returned to the castle in the village once more, where they were remarried in a lavish ceremony with every villager invited to attend, and they were never apart from one another again so long as they both lived.


End file.
